LXXXII. SOMETHING LEFT UNDONE. H. W. LONGFELLOW. 1. Labor with what zeal we will, Something still remains undone, Something uncompleted still 2. By the bedside, on the stair, 3. Waits, and will not go away; 4. Till at length the burden seems 5. And we stand from day to day, LXXXIII. THE INFINITY OF THE UNIVERSE. ORMSBY M. MITCHEL. 1. Light traverses space at the rate of twelve million miles a minute, yet the light from the nearest star requires ten years to reach the earth, and Herschel's telescope revealed stars two thousand three hundred times further distant. The great telescope of Lord Ross pursued these creations of God still deeper into space, and having resolved the nebulæ of the Milky Way into stars, discovered other systems of stars-beautiful diamond points, glittering through the black darkness beyond. When he beheld this amazing abyss-when he saw these systems scattered profusely throughout space-when he reflected upon their immense distances, their enormous magnitude, and the countless millions of worlds that belonged to them, it seemed to him as though the wild dream of the German poet was more than realized. 2. God called man in dreams into the vestibule of heaven, saying, "Come up hither, and I will show thee the glory of my house." And to his angels who stood about his throne, he said, "Take him, strip him of his robes of flesh ; cleanse his affections; put a new breath into his nostrils; but touch not his human heart-the heart that fears and hopes and trembles." A moment, and it was done, and the man stood ready for his unknown voyage. Under the guidance of a mighty angel, with sound of flying pinions, they sped away from the battlements of heaven. Some time on the mighty angel's wings they fled through Saharas of darkness, wilderness of death. 3. At length, from a distance not counted save in the arithmetic of heaven, light beamed upon them-a sleepy flame as seen through a hazy cloud. They sped on in their terrible speed to meet the light; the light with lesser speed came to meet them. In a moment the blazing of suns around them-a moment the wheeling of planets; then came long eternities of twilight; then again on the right hand and the left appeared other constellations. At last the man sank down, crying, "Angel, I can go no further ; let me lie down in the grave and hide myself from the infinitude of the universe, for end there is none.” "End is there none?" demanded the angel. And from the glittering stars that shone around, there came a choral shout-"End there is none!" "End there is none?" demanded the angel again; "and is it this that awes thy soul? I answer, end there is none to the universe of God! Lo, also, there is no beginning!" LXXXIV. UNDER THE VIOLETS. O. W. HOLMES. 1. Her hands are cold; her face is white; 2. But not beneath a graven stone, To plead for tears with alien eyes ; 3. And gray old trees of hugest limb Shall wheel their circling shadows round 4. When o'er their boughs the squirrels run, 5. For her the morning choir shall sing 6. When, turning round their dial-track, 7. At last the rootlets of the trees 8. If any, born of kindlier blood, LXXXV.-THE POET AND THE ALCHEMIST ΑΝΟΝΥΜOUS. 1. Authors of modern date are wealthy fellows; The rhymes and novels which cajole us, But from the waters of Pactolus. 2. Before this golden age of writers, Of odes and poems to be twisted All ticketed from A to Izzard ; Kept going backwards all his days. 3. Hard by his attic lived a chemist, To find the art of changing metals, 4. Our starving poet took occasion Or laudatory dedication, 5. The money paid, our bard was hurried 6. With grave and solemn look, the poet Cried-"List-O, list! for thus I show it : That we may all have what we like, |